


Be Careful Where You Lay Your Ambitions, Little Boy

by myusernameisstupid



Category: Borderlands (Video Games)
Genre: Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, One Shot, Rape Recovery, Reader is handsome Jack, Short, also there's some trigger warnings for this fic lemme tag em, his grandma fucked him up, this is kinda a kin thing, this is my first fic please be gentle
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 03:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9157678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myusernameisstupid/pseuds/myusernameisstupid
Summary: The birth of a plan.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys this is my first fic! I hope I tagged everything appropriately! R*pe is never explicitly described but it is implied, so watch out! And I know some of this clashes with canon, but most of this comes from personal like kin feelings and such so yeah. You can find me on tumblr @ myusernameis-stupid! Hope you enjoy!

You run fast over the desert dunes, far, far away from the dusty shack and everything inside. Cursing, screaming, sobbing, you collapse in the sand, wincing at the sore spots on your body: your arms, your face, your head.  
In between your legs.  
You’re young, but you are no fool. You know what just happened. You know it has happened before, and will continue to happen as long as you're stuck with that bitch.  
You let out another guttural scream, clawing and tearing into the sand beneath you. Punching, kicking, flailing, you do everything you can to get your anger, your disgust and frustration, out of your system. After hours, days maybe, your limbs are too heavy to carry the force of your anger, so you curls into yourself, lying in the fetal position like a dying animal.  
You know you need to leave. You have to get as far away as humanly possible from that shack, from these dusty dunes, from your grandma.  
You curl in further, touching your forehead to your knees. Your tears eventually taper off, and you take a few shuddering breaths and roll onto your back, lying spread eagle.  
The stars are beautiful tonight. Little tiny balls of anger burning their way through the night. Staring at them, you can almost forget where you are-on the outskirts of some shithole town, run by people who would kill their own kids for a couple coins, on some shithole planet full of murderers and thieves and child hitters and rapists-  
God, you’re crying again, you’re so fucking pathetic. You can’t change shit by sniveling in the sand, cowering from the world. You need to take action, you need to leave, you need to-  
Your eyes rest on the moon. In front of it, ever present, like an all seeing eye, lies the Helios station. You’ve heard of Hyperion-they make guns, and other robotics. People say that they have connections all Pandora. They have power, control. They’re safe, up in that big old H in the sky. You could become someone there. You could escape a life of wasting away in the desert.  
You want that. You want that buffer zone, thousands of miles and an entire atmosphere to separate you from Pandora. You want a purpose to your life. You want a whole company in the palm of your hand, marionette strings connecting your fingers to the whole of Pandora, hell, even Elpis. No one could prey on you then. Hell, people always tell you how smart you are. Engineering isn’t that foreign of a concept to you,either.  
You could do it.  
You stand up, wipe your face, dust of your clothes. You make your way back to the shack, not as a victim, but as a catalyst.


End file.
